Swarms of thoughts,
Those who clouded our sights and made us turn in circles
in the same psychological neighborhood
when we were convinced we could cross the city better than anyone else,
End up dissipating.
They always unveil a landscape of compassion – under the tarmac of thoughts –
Always a land of wild compassion.
As long as this compassion does not fill the full range of our field of vision,
It means this latter has been fogged up,
No matter what stories we keep telling ourselves.
©FJ Nov 2021
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